Loss after The Battle
by Time-Space-And-Stories
Summary: The Battle at Hogwarts is over. But the battle for love, so it seems, it not quite at a close. Hopeful desperation quickly becomes pained realisation, as Draco Malfoy struggles with the loss of the one thing he had been fighting for.


Draco Malfoy rushed desperately towards the ruins of the castle. The battle may have ended, but he had yet to find those who mattered to him. To find her.

The dark, rumbling clouds hung ever low, drizzling their grief over the many losses with warm, countless tears. Dust crackled still with the electricity of enchantments that had criss-crossed their paths across the battlements moments ago.

So many memories were buzzing through his head. He knew his parents were alive, from having been made to walk to them under the presence of the Dark Lord. He knew they had had no plans on staying – but before they could drag him along with them, he'd dashed back to the opposing side at the last moment. He'd never been certain he could do it, make that choice; seeing her had finalised the deal. Seeing she was alive was enough. But he needed her _now_.

Stumbling over debris and clumsily pulling himself along a ragged path to the inside of the castle, Draco could see others taking the same route. Those alive were gathering within what had once been the Great Hall, and those who had passed were being brought in with extreme care.

There were so many bodies… and a great deal more tears. Draco was only looking for one person.

 _Granger_.

Memories clouded his vision – as if he wasn't finding it difficult already to walk onwards. Of the Sixth Year. The year it had changed. The year they had put their past dislikes behind them, had begun with mere mutual terms. A friendship had started (though neither had wanted to admit it at the time). As the year had gone on, she had been the only one he'd truly been able to confine to, confess what was about to come. And somehow, their friendship had grown to something. Something… _more_. But it was different; it was new and unfamiliar and unexpected yet so satisfying, relieving and incredible.

Of course, the war had to get in the way.

Draco had had no choice but to go on with his task, and from that moment the two had been separated. Their closeness became only secret memories to dwell on, to latch onto and linger in their past happiness whilst everything else seemed to be going so wrong. Until she had appeared in his life again, been brought into the Manor – and seeing her tortured had tortured him. Never had he hated to see something so much in his life; never had he so badly wanted to leap forward and protect _her_.

The last time he'd seen her face was only moments ago. When the battle had begun afresh: as Potter had been revealed as alive. But now, it was all over. Now, he could finally see her again. Hold her. Protect her. Kiss her and no longer care if the world saw.

Draco tumbled on through, wide eyes scanning his surroundings for her face. He needed her.

He caught sight of a group of red heads. The Weasley family. Draco exhaled in relief as with them stood one of jet black hair – he didn't need to be told to acknowledge that Potter was with them. Which could only mean she would be there too.

He couldn't spot her from where he was, but immediately quickened his fatigued, now adrenaline filled pace. His strides, almost leaps; his walk now a run; the drumming of his heart matching the thudding of his feet against the stone floor. Draco felt pushed, buoyed over by sudden hope.

His heart dropped as he was close enough to catch sight of his once rival's face. Tears racked behind cracked glasses; agony searing the famous face. Potter's best friend, the Weasel, stood beside him in a similar state: a mixture of denial and pain screwing up his features as streams ran down his face.

 _No._

Draco's body was now moving of its own accord. _It could be someone else; it might be someone else. It_ had _to be someone else. Not her. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her._

"What do you want, Malfoy," Ron growled, voice choking up.

"Where is she," he gasped in reply.

Harry had looked to him with mutual understanding as he'd made his appearance: he'd seen Draco return and fight along their side during the last moments. But now, despite his evident grief, he frowned. "Where is who?"

Her name barely passed his lips. "Granger."

Harry silenced at that, frown not leaving as tears began anew on his face. Ron held back a sob, whilst shooting Draco a glare.

Draco stiffened in slow realisation of what was appearing to be the inevitable.

The two glanced – perhaps unknowingly – to the same spot; Draco knew. He began to shake; everything was thrown aside as he pushed forwards, between the two of them to where their eyes had both unconsciously wandered to behind.

Draco froze. He'd never thought time could stop, but in that moment he wasn't sure it would be capable of ever restarting. He barely acknowledged the mourning crowd – mainly made up of Weasleys – surrounding… _her_.

Something hit him hard in the chest. He couldn't breathe. His eyes couldn't see, his voice couldn't speak. Everything shattered in a moment.

"What are you doing, you traitor?! Get away from her," someone yelled, their voice a loud, aggrieved rasp cutting dully through the swamp of faded noise. It was Ron.

"He's not a traitor." That would be Harry.

Draco dismissed the argument the two were likely to have. All he could see, understand, was her face. Finally a shaky sob dragged through his lips. He didn't care of the attention he roused as he slowly lowered down.

He was on his knees. A hand of his reached out, so slowly, towards her; with it he grasped her hand. It was so cold. He leant closer as his other hand drifted to her perfectly sculpted face, her eyes closed and lips together. His fingers delicately brushed the side of her face, following the familiar curves he could still remember of.

"…Hermione," he whispered, his throat raw. Maybe she was simply resting. Maybe her eyelids would flicker and he'd meet his grey eyes with hers of gorgeous brown, and her smile would lift those lips and brighten her face and she would laugh, and she would be weak but alive; so, so alive.

 _Nothing_.

This didn't make him accept the truth, but it finally made an impact. Something clicked. Time resumed, dropping him behind.

He let out a cry of anguish as his eyes danced over her. The cry to set it all off. He ignored the whispers and the mutterings from around him. His eyes were prickling as they misted over.

"Hermione," he repeated, edging ever closer. He was leaning over her now, his body curling protectively above hers. His hands left hers and went to the other side of her face. "Hermione," he breathed raggedly, subsequently pressing his lips to her forehead. " _Please_ …"

A hand fell upon his shoulder; he didn't bother turning. "Malfoy," came Potter's voice.

Draco sobbed, the tears now beginning to spill.

Harry knelt down beside him. "Malfoy…"

" _No_." Draco's guttural response was sharp. He returned one of his hands to encase hers as the other combed through her hair, stroking her face with affection. "No, you don't understand." His words were almost inaudible as they mixed with his sobs. "You won't understand."  
"Why does she matter to _you_ ," came the accusing, emotion filled voice of the Weasley.

Draco dissolved into a new flood of tears. He fought to rake them back, to no avail. "Hermione… means more to me, than anyone else ever _will_ ," he snarled, with sudden anger igniting with the grief at the fact that he had to explain this. His eyes softened, anger melting as he washed his gaze back over her.

"Hermione," he spoke softly, to her and only her. "I need you. Please; I need you – come back. I can't… I don't want, to do this… without you. Please. Just, wake up. We – we can fix you, we can; we can save you. Like you always saved me. _Please_. I can't lose you, again. I've waited for… for so long. Wake up." He spun his gaze around, to find everyone was looking at him with bewilderment and grief. "How…?" He now questioned anyone listening. "How, did – how did she… is there any way; any chance we can, save her?" Anger built up once more as he studied the blank faces. " _Anything!_ There has to be something, something you missed; something you haven't thought of…"

Draco's eyes fell back to the young woman. "I never told you," he crooned softly. "I never said. I didn't want to, in case of what would happen, amidst the war. But you never heard me say it. _I love you._ You never heard those words. Hermione. I love you. Please know that. Please. I love you so much. _Come back_. Don't go. Why do you have to go? I want to _save you_. Hermione…"


End file.
